


Sam and Dean Winchester in Skyrim

by SharaRaizel



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Dean, BAMF Sam, Big Brother Dean, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Dean Freaks Out, Dean Has Issues, Dean Has Self-Worth Issues, Dragonborn (Elder Scrolls), Dragons, Frustrated Sam, Gen, Hurt Dean, Optimistic Sam, Protective Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Worried Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-27 00:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1707827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharaRaizel/pseuds/SharaRaizel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's not sure what happened. One minute he and Dean had been running through a forest in North Dakota after a black dog that Bobby had sent them after, and the next they had found themselves in a world that looks like it's right out of Lord of the Rings. His demonic powers are back and stronger then ever and Dean is apparently something called a "Dragonborn." They're obviously not in their world anymore. Between the dragons, creatures and the nearly barbaric people and living conditions of this world, Sam's not sure how they're going to survive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dean, I Don't Think We're in Kansas Anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so... my brother and I have recently started playing Skyrim. I'm not normally a video-gamer (I prefer to watch, not play) but Skyrim is addictive man! I totally suck at fighting in it, but it's fun, and apparently I've been playing it and/or watching my brother play it too much lately because I had a dream where Sam and Dean found themselves in Skyrim and I just had to write a fan fic about it. Now because my own game play sucks, I'm using Skyrim Lets Plays on Youtube as my models for the gameplay storyline aspects of this fic. Now the first couple of chapters of this will follow straight story from the game, but as things progress I'll add more original(ish) input and adventures in for our boys. Oh, and just so y'all know, for Sam and Dean this takes place during season 3 after Mystery Spot and before the finale. All you guys really need to know is that Sam has been trying to find a way to break Dean's deal but has had no luck and Dean's only got a little under a month left. Ok, enough from me. Enjoy the fic!

**POV – Sam**

Sam wasn’t sure what to think anymore. One minute he and Dean had been running through a forest in North Dakota after a black dog that Bobby had sent them after, and the next they had found themselves in a skirmish that was right out of Lord of the Rings. In the sudden confusion, Sam tried to keep track of Dean, but something struck him from behind and he fell to his knees. He heard his brother cry out to him, but everything was quickly fading to black.

When he awoke, it was to the jarring sensation of hitting a pothole. Instead of hearing the soothing rumble of the Impala, however, there was the creaking and bumpy movements of a cart or wagon. Confused, Sam opened his eyes and tried to blink his vision back into focus. He was startled to realize that he was indeed in a cart and that his hands were tightly bound. In front of him was a blond man who looked to be around Dean’s age, but with long blond hair that reached his shoulders. He was dressed in grey and blue armor and his hands were bound as well. Looking to his left he saw the driver of the cart – a man in red and brown armor – and another cart ahead of them carrying more bound men in blue and grey. There were more men dressed in red and brown walking beside the carts. Clearly those in the carts were these men’s prisoners.

Alarmed, Sam quickly looked to his right and felt a minor wave of relief to find Dean slumped beside him. There was a worrisome gash on his brother’s left temple, but other than that and a few forming bruises he looked fine. Next to Dean at the end of the cart was another man in blue and grey armor, but his appeared to be more elaborate, suggesting a higher rank than the man sitting in front of Sam. The man was slightly older too, with long light-brown hair, but unlike the man in front of Sam, this one was gagged in addition to being bound.

Across from this older man was a younger one that looked to be around Sam’s age. He was clean-shaven and had short dark hair. He wasn’t wearing any armor like the other two; only a yellowed tunic and brown breeches and foot wrappings. Glancing down at himself and Dean, Sam realized that they were wearing similar garb as well. The hell?

Lifting his head a bit more, Sam took in their surroundings. They were still in a forest, but clearly they weren’t in North Dakota anymore. Not with mountains like those. Hell, he and Dean hadn’t even been near mountains before they found themselves here. He wasn’t even sure he knew the names of the kinds of trees that now surrounded him. And it looked like they were on a well-used cobblestoned path to somewhere.

Before he could really panic, however, Dean groaned beside him and started moving.

“S’mmy?”

“I’m right here, Dean,” Sam said softly, pressing his thigh up against his brother’s since he couldn’t do much else with his hands bound.

Their short exchange attracted the attention of the man in front of Sam.

“Hey, you two. You’re finally awake. You were trying to cross the boarder, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush same as us and that thief over there,” the man said.

“Damn you Stormcloaks,” growled the young man that had been called a thief. “Skyrim was fine until you came along. The Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn’t been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell.”

Sam and Dean traded worried looks. Stormcloaks? Empire? Skyrim? Hammerfell? Just where the hell had they ended up?

“You there,” the thief said, catching Sam and Dean’s attention again. “You and me – we shouldn’t be here. It’s these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.”

Sam couldn’t help but agree. Wherever this was, it was far from home. He wondered if they had managed to wander into another mystery spot or something of the like. He was honestly hoping that this was all a bad dream after watching a marathon of the Lord of the Rings movies.

“We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief,” the man in front of Sam said.

“Shut up back there!” the driver of their cart barked.

“And what’s wrong with him, huh?” the thief said in a softer voice, glaring at the man seated across from him.

“Watch your tongue,” growled the Stormcloak. “You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King.”

Sam and Dean shared another look. High King? What was this? Narnia?

“Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You’re the leader of the rebellion. But if they’ve captured you… Oh Gods, where are they taking us?!” the thief cried.

Sam felt a sinking sensation in his gut. Just great. He and Dean had somehow managed to land themselves in the middle of a rebellion. A rebellion that might be nearing its end if its leader had been captured. He had a really bad feeling about what awaited them at the end of this ride.

“I don’t know where we’re going, but Sovngarde awaits,” the Stormcloak rebel said calmly. _Resignedly_.

“No, this can’t be happening. This isn’t happening,” the thief whimpered.

Sam felt Dean shift uneasily beside him. He couldn’t help but scoot a little closer to his brother, providing comfort as well as seeking some for himself. Dean stilled and pressed closer until they were touching from thigh to shoulder. The cart hit a jarring divot in the cobbled path not a minute later, though, rocking them violently. Dean groaned, his face turning ashen. Sam worried that the blow to Dean’s head had given him a concussion. He started to worry even more when Dean voluntarily slumped against him and rested his head on his shoulder. Dean was hardly the affectionate type and never sought out his own comfort in Sam’s presence. Usually they were only in this position if Sam nagged him enough. Stupid macho older brother.

But then again, with time running out and the end of his deal coming up, Dean had started to allow himself and Sam small moments like this. Especially after the mystery spot and the trickster. At the mere thought of Dean’s deal, Sam felt his eyes sting with tears. He still hadn’t found a way to save his older brother. There was a little under a month left, but if this strange turn of events played out the way Sam was dreading it was, then it wouldn’t matter. He wished that his hands weren’t bound so that he could hold Dean. Then again, maybe it was a good thing. Dean wouldn’t care for that kind of thing. He’d consider it an intimate chick-flick moment and those had always been a no-no unless it was Sam that was really hurting. Really, _really_ hurting.

“Hey. What village are you from, horse thief?” the man in front of him asked, bringing Sam out of his despairing thoughts.

“Why do you care?” the thief grumbled.

“A Nord’s last thoughts should be of home,” the rebel said gently.

“…Rorikstead. I’m… I’m from Rorikstead,” the thief answered haltingly.

Sam had no idea what a Nord was – though clearly it was what could be considered these men’s nationality – nor where Rorikstead was, but he admired the man in front of him for trying to reach out and calm the thief.

“General Tullius, sir!” someone called out. “The headsman is waiting.”

It was then that Sam realized that the forest around them had thinned out and that they were now entering a village that looked like it came straight out of a medieval fantasy movie. Again, like something out of Lord of the Rings.

“Good. Lets get this over with,” someone answered. Sam couldn’t see who.

“Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me,” the thief prayed, his brief moment of calm gone.

“Look at him. General Tullius the Military Governor,” growled the man in front of Sam. Sam looked around as much as he could with Dean resting against him, but still couldn’t catch a glimpse of this General guy. “And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this.”

Elves? Dean glanced up at him, eyebrow raised. Sam shrugged gently so as not to jostle Dean and hurt him further.

“This is Helgen,” the rebel sighed after a moment of silence. “I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny, when I was a boy Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe.”

Dean snorted softly, but the Stormcloak rebel apparently was too lost in his reminiscences to take notice.

“Who are they, daddy? Where are they going?”

Hearing a child’s voice, Sam glanced around him to his left and saw a house were a young boy sat on the steps leading up to it. A man – clearly the boy’s father – rushed forward and pulled the boy to his feet.

“You need to go inside, little cub,” he said.

“Why? I want to watch the soldiers.” The boy pouted.

“Inside the house. Now.” The man said sharply, tugging the boy towards the house’s door. Sam couldn’t watch any more without becoming an owl, so he returned his gaze forward. He heard the boy say, “Yes, papa,” just as the cart ahead of his come to a stop at the edge of a cleared courtyard filled with more red and brown armored soldiers and villagers that were beginning to crowd around at the outskirts.

“Whoa!” their driver called as he angled their cart to come in beside the other one.

“Get these prisoners out of the carts. Move it!” A woman’s voice cut through the air.

“Why are we stopping?” the thief asked.

“Why do you think? End of the line,” the man opposite Sam said ominously before addressing Sam and Dean. “Let’s go. Shouldn’t keep the Gods waiting for us.”

Sam felt Dean sit himself upright and slowly rose to his feet. Sam quickly followed, not wanting to stray far from Dean.

“No! Wait! We’re not rebels!” the thief cried as he hopped off the cart after the gagged man.

“Face your death with some courage, thief,” the Stormcloak rebel scoffed from behind Sam and Dean.

Dean jumped down behind the thief, swaying unsteadily on his feet for a moment. Sam hurried down and reached his bound hands out to help steady him. He really didn’t like how pale his brother looked.

“You’ve got to tell them! We weren’t with you! This is a mistake!” the thief continued to cry out as they all approached a woman in elaborate brown and red armor with silver plating. Sam was surprised to see a woman soldier, one clearly high in rank in comparison to the man beside her who was holding a list of some kind.

“Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time,” the woman barked.

“Empire loves their damn lists,” growled the Stormcloak now standing beside them.

“Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm,” the man with the list called out.

“It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric,” the blond muttered as they watched the gagged man follow a soldier to the courtyard on their left.

“Ralof of Riverwood.”

Sam watched the man next to them follow his Jarl’s example, wordlessly passing the woman soldier and headed towards the courtyard.

“Lokir of Rorikstead.”

“No, I’m not a rebel. You can’t do this!” the thief – Lokir – cried before making a run for it.

“Halt!” the woman yelled.

“You’re not going to kill me!” Lokir cried desperately as he fled.

“Archers!” the woman called, and Sam noticed the armored bowman in the shadows of the building on their right aim and took the thief out with only one shot. Dean stiffened beside him and Sam pursed his lips. Obviously running was not an option.

“Anyone else feel like running?” the woman demanded, glaring at him and Dean, as well as the Stormcloak rebels from the other cart.

“Wait. You there. Step forward,” The man with the list said to them.

Sam and Dean traded nervous glances before approaching together. The woman continued to glare at them, but didn’t say anything.

“Who are you?” the man asked.

When Dean didn’t answer Sam spoke up.

“I’m Sam, and this is my brother, Dean.”

“They are Nords from the look of them,” the woman scoffed. “No other men in all of Tamriel are that tall.”

“You picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim, kinsman,” the man smiled sadly before addressing the woman. “Captain. What should we do? They’re not on the list.”

“Forget the list. They go to the block,” the woman sneered.

“By your orders, Captain,” he said before facing Sam and Dean again. “I’m sorry. At least you’ll die here, in your homeland. Follow the Captain, prisoners.”

Sam wanted to protest. Something. Anything. He wanted to say that this wasn’t their “homeland.” That they didn’t belong here. To run like the thief had. But the Captain was watching them and the archer behind her had another arrow already knocked and ready. Instead, he and Dean followed the woman as she led them to where the rebels were gathered before the armored soldiers. A decorated armored man was speaking to the gagged rebel leader.

“Ulfric Stormcloak,” he was saying as they approached. “Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn’t use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne.”

Sam again shared a confused look with Dean. A power like the Voice? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Whatever it was, that was probably why the man was gagged. Sam wondered if he was a magic user or something.

Ulfric only growled at the man in response, voice muffled by the gag.

“You started this war,” the red and gold armored man continued, “plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace.”

A high-pitched sound echoed around the mountains surrounding the village and the stone walls around the courtyard. Sam and Dean and many others looked up and around to see if they could spot the source of the noise.

“What was that?” someone asked.

“It’s nothing. Carry on,” the high-ranking man said dismissively.

“Yes, General Tullius,” the Captain saluted.

Ah. So he was the general that Ralof had been talking about.

“Give them their last rites,” the Captain said as she turned to a person wearing golden robes.

Sam took note of the other people in front of him. Aside from the General and the Captain, there was the golden robed person, the man who’d had the list, and another man dressed in a white fur skirt and boots, dark breeches, tunic, and hood, and was wielding a large sinister looking axe. Sam felt his heart jump up into his throat. Oh God…

A woman’s voice came from the golden-garbed figure – she must have been a priestess or something.

“As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved…”

“For the love of Talos, shut up and let’s get this over with,” a Stormcloak rebel said, stepping forth and interrupting the woman.

“As you wish,” the holy woman said, sounding mildly irritated.

“What a dick,” Dean muttered under his breath. “Someone is in a hurry to die.”

“Come on, I haven’t got all morning,” the Stormcloak said as the Captain forced him to his knees and shoved his head onto the stone block before the man with the axe. Sam gulped when he noticed the crate where…

“My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?” the Stormcloak rebel sneered just before the man raised the axe and brought it down, severing head from shoulders, the head dropping neatly into the awaiting crate.

“Holy shit!” Dean whispered faintly, stepping back into Sam.

“You Imperial bastards!” a voice cried out angrily as the Captain used her foot to nudge the beheaded man’s body to the side and off the chopping block. Sam looked to his left and was surprised to realize that one of the Stormcloak rebels was a woman. For a medieval society, women appeared to have an equal standing alongside the men. Seriously. A woman rebel soldier and a woman Captain.

“Justice!” cried out the voice of the father from earlier.

“Death to the Stormcloaks!” another woman’s voice called out.

“As fearless in death as he was in life,” Ralof sighed from beside Sam.

“Next, the Nord in the rags!” the Captain called out, pointing a finger at Dean.

“No!” Sam cried out just as another roaring sound – deeper this time and louder than the last – echoed around the courtyard.

“There it is again. Did you hear that?” the list-carrying soldier asked.

“I said, next prisoner!” the Captain barked.

“To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy,” List Soldier said softly. He almost sounded remorseful.

“No!” Sam cried again as Dean took a shaky step forward. “Dean!”

Sam made a move to follow his brother, but soldiers seized him from behind.

“Sam! Don’t,” Dean said sharply as another soldier came up to him and grabbed him by the elbow.

Sam stared into his brother’s eyes pleadingly.

“It’s going to be alright, Sammy,” Dean smiled sadly as he let the soldier lead him to the chopping block.

No, it’s not. Dean was such a liar. How could anything be all right about this situation? They were going to die here – beheaded! – and Dean’s soul was going to go to hell.

Dean shook off the soldier’s hold and walked the remaining distance to the block under his own power. Sam saw him swallow deeply, Adam’s apple bobbing, before easing himself to his knees and laid his head on the blood covered stone block, facing away from Sam.

Sam trembled in the soldiers’ hold, tears spilling down his face as he watched the headsman hoist his weapon up. Another roar sounded and Sam saw Dean’s body start in shock, reacting to something behind his executioner.

“What in Oblivion is that?” General Tullius exclaimed.

“Sentries! What do you see?” the Captain asked.

“It’s in the clouds!” a Soldier answered and Sam looked up just in time to see a…

“Dragon!” the Stormcloak woman cried out as a large black winged beast dropped from the sky and landed atop the tower behind the execution site. The force of it’s landing shook the ground and caused the headsman to fall to the side and away from Dean. The dragon let out a loud roar and there was a crack of thunder, the sky suddenly darkening, dark clouds swirling overhead and an electrical energy filling the air. The dragon attacked, a shockwave of electrical energy blasting away some of the soldiers.

“Don’t just stand there! Kill that thing! Guards, get the townspeople to safety!” General Tullius called out to his men.

Sam took advantage of the sudden chaos and rushed to Dean’s side where he lay next to the chopping block. Sam did his best to haul Dean to his feet with his still-bound hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! Cliffhanger! :P
> 
> So that's Sam's POV. Next chapter will be Dean's and will probably run until they make it out of Helgen and the caves. Then we'll switch back to Sam's POV for the trip to Riverwood (it is Riverwood, right?). I actually have half of chapter two written out, so look forward to that coming out real soon.
> 
> So what did you guys think? Let me know in a comment below or just leave kudos if you think that I should continue writing this. It's one of many fics that have been circling around in my mind for a while, so I'd really like to know if there's interest in this. And just so that we're clear this is pure brotherly bonding stuff and not going to be slash.
> 
> Thanks for reading and look forward to Chapter 2: We have...DRAGONS!!!


	2. We Have...DRAGONS!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this took me longer to post than I thought, but it ended up being longer too, so that's a win I suppose. I hope that I captured Dean's spirit/attitude and that you enjoy this next chapter. Please feel free to leave a comment and/or kudos! I want to know if there is any interest in me continuing this story. :)

**POV – Dean**

“Hey, kinsmen,” Ralof shouted at them from nearby. “Get up! Come on, the Gods won’t give us another chance!”

Dean stumbled to his feet as Sam’s great paws yanked him upright.

“This way!” Ralof cried, leading them into one of the stone structures. A tower of some kind Dean noted absently when they came to a stop beside a winding stone staircase. God, his head hurt.

“Jarl Ulfric!” Ralof exclaimed suddenly. Dean looked up blearily and noticed that there were a few other Stormcloak rebels with them. Dean also couldn’t help but notice that they were all unbound as well, lucky bastards.

“What is that thing? Could the legends be true?” Ralof asked his leader.

“Legends don’t burn down villages,” Ulfric said grimly, his voice rough from being gagged.

“No shit,” Dean groaned, leaning heavily against Sam. He felt his little brother shift to help him as well as he could. They both still had their hands bound together. Couldn’t someone freaking untie them now?

“We need to move. Now!” Ulfric barked as the ground shook from another attack from the dragon.

“Up through the tower, let’s go!” Ralof added and started up the stairs.

Sam moved to help him, but Dean shoved him away, settling on his own two feet again, and made for the steps himself.

“Up the stairs, quickly!” Ulfric urged them. Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.

“We just need to move some of these rocks to clear the way!” a Stormcloak Soldier informed them from higher up the tower. Just when they neared his position, the dude was blown away as the dragon blew in part of the wall.

“Get back!” Ralof shouted. Just in time too. The dragon shot a blast of flames in, burning the unfortunate Stormcloak guy to a crisp.

“Toor…Shul!” Dean heard whispered in his head. Confused, he looked around, but could find no reasonable source for the voice. It had been hissed, eerily reminding him of the Nazgul from Lord of the Rings. Man, if he ever got out of here he was never watching those movies again!

When the dragon was gone Dean and Sam followed Ralof up to the hole in the wall and Dean felt his breath catch in his throat. The entire village was up in flames and screams and shouts could be heard from all over the place beneath the dragon’s loud roars.

“See the inn on the other side?” Ralof sudden said, shaking Dean’s shoulder. “Jump through the roof and keep going! Go! We’ll follow when we can.”

Dean wanted to snap some scathing comment, but in the wake of all this fear and the adrenaline rushing through his system, the words failed to come to him. He then glanced back over his shoulder at Sam, seeing his brother’s hazel eyes wide with fear and concern. Dean reigned in his own fear and backed up as far as the landing on the stairs allowed.

“Come on, Sam,” he said, steeling himself before charging forward, throwing himself through the hole in the roof of the building below and rolled with the fall to lessen the impact. The smoke and heat of the flames along with the sudden pain from his head injury – damn it, probably a concussion – left him disoriented. He felt more than heard Sam’s own jump before his brother was there with him and helping him down and out through the ruined building and out into clearer air.

Dean could hear someone speaking as they exited the inn and came across the soldier that Dean recognized from earlier – the only one that hadn’t been a complete dick.

“Don’t look up. Just focus on me. You can do it!” the soldier was saying to a little boy that was standing between them and the dragon that had just landed nearby. “Haming, you need to get over here. Now! That a boy. You’re doing great.”

The boy made it to the soldier, but it was only then that Dean noticed the man behind the boy.

“Torolf!” the soldier shouted just as the dragon reared its head back and let loose another blast of flames. “Gods… Everyone get back!”

Dean, Sam, the boy, the soldier and an elderly looking man ducked behind the remains of another building to avoid the rest of the flaming blast. Thankfully the dragon left soon after the attack and went to go torment some other part of the village.

“Still alive, prisoners?” the soldier asked when he spotted them. “Keep close to me if you want to stay that way.” Yeah, no problem there, chief, but where the hell were those Stormcloak dudes? “Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense.”

“Gods guide you, Hadvar,” the old man – Gunnar – said, with reverance and respect.

Hadvar nodded and charged off.

“Come on,” Dean muttered to Sam, following the soldier. He tried not to look at the charred remains of the Torolf guy on the ground as they passed.

“Stay close to the wall!” Hadvar called out to them as they ducked down between a stone wall and the scorched remains of some building. They could hear the shouts of nearby soldiers struggling to put up some sort of defense when the dragon dropped down from the sky and attacked again. Dean gasped and they found themselves crouched against the wall beneath the wings of the dragon. One of its winged limbs was right in front of him and Sam, too close for comfort. Then that voice was back, louder this time.

“Yol…Toor…Shul!” it hissed in his head. Was that… coming from the dragon?!

“Quickly, follow me!” Hadvar shouted the moment the dragon moved on.

They raced up the steps, through a demolished floor plan and out into an active battleground. Dean had to do a double take when he saw an armored, but unarmed man send a blast of fire of his own after the dragon. Christ, there were magic users here too. So where the hell was this world’s equivalent of Gandalf and those elves Ralof had mentioned before? They could certainly use their help about now. All around them were the shouts of the defending soldiers.

“Tell my family I fought bravely.”

“Come on. Give me your hand, I’m getting you out of here.”

“Move! Move!”

“Hadvar!” General Tullius’ voice suddenly called out over the noise of battle. “Into the keep, soldier, we’re leaving!”

“It’s you and me, prisoners. Stay close!” Hadvar barked.

Dean made sure Sam was still with him before following the soldier. They hurried through more flaming wreckage and choking smoke before Hadvar stopped.

“Ralof! You damned traitor. Out of my way!” he shouted.

It took Dean a moment to recognize the Stormcloak rebel that had been captured with them and had aided them in the beginning. The man’s blond hair was blackened with soot. He also appeared to have found more of his allies.

“We’re escaping Hadvar. You’re not stopping us this time.” Ralof shouted back at the soldier.

“Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde.” Hadvar hissed angrily.

“You two! Come on, into the keep!” Ralof shouted as he made for one entrance into a stone structure.

“With me, prisoners. Let’s go!” Hadvar shouted as he headed for another.

Dean traded a considering glance with his brother before they both turned to follow Ralof. Hadvar may have been decent for a soldier, but the rest of his companions were huge dicks, especially that bitch that had ordered him onto the chopping block. Ralof had already proven to be a good ally anyway.

“Through here, let’s go!” Ralof cried as they ducked into the keep.

Inside they entered a circular chamber with a large looming chandelier hanging above. There was a large rug covering most of the cracked cobblestoned flooring as well as a few tapestries and hunting trophies on the stone, moss-covered walls. Ralof rushed past them and approached a slumped figure in Stormcloak garb lying beside the only table and chair in the room. He dropped to his knees and checked the man over. Even with a throbbing head, Dean could tell there was no helping the poor bastard. He was already dead.

“We’ll meet again in Sovngarde, brother,” Ralof said softly before rising to his feet. “Looks like we’re the only ones who made it. That thing was a dragon. No doubt.” Really?! Gee. Ya think?! What was your first clue? The fact that it was a giant flying lizard, or that it could breath fire? “Just like the children’s stories and the legends. The harbingers of the End Times. We better get moving. Come here. Let me see if I can get those bindings off.”

Thank fuck.

Dean waited impatiently for Ralof to undo the damned leather strips binding his hands together.

“There you go,” Ralof said once he was finished untying Sam. “One of you may as well take Gunjar’s gear. He won’t be needing it any more.”

Sam and Dean shared a startled look and glanced over at the dead man. Upon closer inspection, Dean saw how he was. God… He looked like he was barely out of his teens.

“…He’s closer to you in size, Dean,” Sam said softly, looking a little green.

“…Yeah. Ok,” Dean nodded, swallowing as he crouched down and started to remove the man’s clothes. His hands wouldn’t stop trembling as he removed the armor, chainmail, boots, and the rest of the clothing – leaving the kid in nothing but his under-linens – making the process take longer than it should have. Sam helped him with the more complicated bits on the armor and chainmail.

“All right, get that armor on and give that axe a few swings. I’m going to see if I can find some way out of here,” Ralof nodded at them before turning his attention to the two other doors leading to their room. Dean didn’t like seeing that both were barred doors like the ones found in a prison.

He felt his gut churn as he changed out of the shitty rags he’s been wearing since waking up in this fucked up world and put on the dead kid’s clothes. They were still warm too, making Dean’s skin crawl. It felt so wrong. Sure, he and Sam had been charged with multiple counts of grave desecration, but they never stole the clothes off of the corpses, let alone wear them.

Taking Ralof’s advice, Dean hefted the axe and tested the weight of it in his hand, giving it a few experimental swings. Wielding it wasn’t bad, but an axe was far from his first weapon of choice. Preferably he’d have his Colt or Desert Eagle handguns, but this didn’t seem like a world that had guns. His Bowie knife would also be a welcome weapon choice, but he and Sam had wound up here without anything they’d been carrying before. Hell. They didn’t even have their anti-demon possession tattoos anymore. Everything had been left behind. …Except for his amulet. For some strange reason Dean still had the amulet that Sam had given him when they were kids. Now why did that of all things cross over with them, and not the tattoos that had been inked into their skin?

“This one’s locked. Let’s see about that gate,” Ralof reported before moving on to the other door, inspecting it. “Damn. No way to open this from our side.”

“Well that’s just great,” Dean muttered to Sam. “What now?”

“We can always go back out and face the dragon,” Sam smirked.

Dean snorted, wincing when the action made his head throb. Oww. Yeah. Not doing that again. Then there was a loud clang and the sound of a couple someones approaching.

“It’s the Imperials! Take cover!” Ralof hissed, backing them away from the door and against the wall.

“Get this gate open,” a woman’s voice ordered. Sam tensed beside him and Dean scowled, tightening his grip on the axe. He’d recognize Captain Bitch’s voice anywhere.

The door opened with a loud groan and clang, allowing Captain Bitch and a lowly grunt soldier inside. The Captain scowled when she saw them and charged.

“Don’t let those Stormcloaks get away!” she cried, launching herself at Dean.

Dean shoved Sam back behind him, out of harms way and he brought his axe up in time to block a blow from the bitch’s sword, the sound and force of the impact were not doing his head any favors. He managed to force her back and took a swing at her before her companion was on him as well. Dean stumbled back, losing his grip on the unfamiliar weapon as he fell flat on his ass, rolling out of the way in time to avoid an overzealous stab of the bitch’s sword. Seriously! What was wrong with her? Did she really want to see him dead that badly? What’d he ever do to her?

“Agh!”

Dean looked up in time to see Ralof cut through the grunt soldier’s jugular with an axe. Damn. That was going to be the only way to stop these people wasn’t it? It was kill or be killed and normally Dean wouldn’t have a problem with that in their line of work, but these were humans! They were people, not monsters. Dean dodged another blow from Captain Bitch and looked around for his own damn weapon. These Imperial douche bags weren’t exactly giving them much choice. Where the hell did he drop that axe?!

Captain Bitch took another swing at him before suddenly halting, blood spurting out over her lips before she fell forward. Dean’s wayward axe was imbedded in her spine. Dean looked up and saw Sam staring down at the woman, wide eyed, his outstretched hand trembling in shock.

“Sammy,” Dean grunted as he dragged himself to his feet.

Sam’s eyes snapped up to meet his, and he just stared at him for a second before hurrying, hands still shaking as he checked Dean over for injuries.

“I’m fine, Sammy,” Dean hushed, grabbing his brother’s wrists to still his hands. “I’m fine.”

“Dean… Oh God,” Sam said, voice barely a whisper as his eyes trailed over to the two dead bodies of the Imperial soldiers.

“Maybe one of these Imperials had the key,” Ralof said, startling the two of them. “Lets see here…”

Dean and Sam looked over at where Ralof was crouched beside the dead woman and searched her pockets.

“Here we are, found a key,” Ralof said triumphantly. “Let’s see if it opens that door.”

“…Better grab some of his armor,” Dean muttered to Sam, nodding his head over at the dead grunt. “Something tells me we’re not getting out of here without another fight.”

Sam nodded, face grey and green as he began to remove the thick leather-hide armor. Dean helped him remove and put on the bloodied clothes, not wanting them to be left behind when Ralof finally got that door open. The clothes were almost ridiculously short on Sam. Dean was just grateful that the soldier guy had had some girth to him, so at least it wasn’t too small.

“We’ll get you better fitting clothes when we have the chance,” Dean promised.

Sam nodded, clipping the soldier’s dagger to his belt and picked up the sword, giving it a few swings to test the balance. Dean did the same with Captain Bitch’s sword. Still not his weapon of choice, but it was a lot better than that axe. He also took the now-dead woman’s dagger – it was nice and ornamental looking – and attached it to his hip. It wasn’t a Bowie knife, but it was better than nothing.

“That’s it!” Ralof suddenly cheered as the door opened with a clang. “Come on, let’s get out of here before the dragon brings the whole tower down on our heads.”

Dean and Sam shared an apprehensive glance before following. Dean made sure that he went ahead of Sam, but from the way his little brother was hanging back anyway, he had a feeling that it was exactly where his brother wanted to be. Probably to make sure he’d see any signs of weakness on Dean’s part, damn overgrown puppy.

The hall outside the previous chamber was dimly lit with torchlight and curved around, leading down. Once they reached the bottom there was a long hall with barred doors down its length. Just as they started to make their way down the long stretch of tunnel, a loud roar echoed and suddenly a section of ceiling came down a short ways ahead of them.

“Look out!” Ralof gasped, waving them back. After the dust settled he started examining the rubble now blocking their way. “Damn, that dragon doesn’t give up easy.”

Dean glanced over at Sam and saw how unnerved his brother was. Honestly, Dean wasn’t doing much better. Things were seriously fucked up.

“Grab everything important and let’s move! Dragon’s burning everything to the ground!” someone said, voice muffled by the door on their left.

Dean wouldn’t have noticed it if not for the voices. It blended in with the surrounding wall in the dim torchlight.

Ralof opened the door and they entered a storeroom of some kind. Herbs were hanging from the rafters, there were barrels, crates, shelves and a table that still held some bottles and odd ends and things. At the far end of the space there seemed to be an entrance into another room and that’s where two more Imperial Soldiers were hurrying about.

“I just need to gather some more potions,” one was saying as he shuffled about.

“Imperial dogs!” Ralof roared, axe held high as he charged to attack.

“The prisoners are escaping!” the other Imperial shouted.

With a groan, Dean and Sam joined the fray against the two soldiers; trying not to think about the lives they were taking. They were more than happy to let Ralof deal the killing blows.

“A storeroom. See if you can find any potions. We’ll need them,” Ralof said as he headed deeper into the rooms.

“Potions?” Sam whispered as they spread out and checked the remaining contents on the table and shelves.

Dean shrugged. He picked up a large round bottle on the table and took a sniff of its contents.

“Huh. Wine,” he grunted, taking a swig, the cool burn of alcohol feeling good in his parched throat. It was a bit stronger than he expected, but that wasn’t a bad thing. His head was still throbbing though, so he didn’t drink much more, passing the bottle on to Sam. Sam took it absently as he opened a barrel and examined its contents. Dean looked over his shoulder and saw a few small bottles lying in the bottom; one red, one blue, and one green.

“What do you think those do?” Dean asked.

“Duh-know,” Sam shrugged. “Here. Try this one.”

Sam handed him the red one.

“What am I? A guinea pig?” Dean scowled, nose scrunching in distaste.

“Come on. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Do I need to answer that, Sam?” Dean deadpanned. “Considering Winchester luck, it could be poison.”

“Look, this is a supply storeroom,” Sam said in his patronizing, logical voice. “I doubt there is anything in here that will harm you. Not with that collection of herbs.”

Sam nodded at the bundles hanging from the rafters. They stared long and hard at each other before Dean sighed and took the vial.

“I swear, Sammy, if I die, I’m coming back to haunt your ass,” Dean groused before drinking.

He shivered as a warm tingle flushed through his body. His aches and soreness gradually lessened and he was happy to note that his head didn’t feel like a throbbing mess.

“Well damn,” he huffed, impressed. “That stuff really works.”

“Really?” Sam asked, looking excited. “How do you feel?”

“Well, my head isn’t trying to drill itself open with mini-jackhammers if that’s what you’re asking – hey!” Dean jolted back when he felt Sam’s hand ghosting over his left temple where he’d been knocked out with the butt of some imperial bastard’s sword when they were captured.

“Your gash is disappearing,” Sam whispered, voice filled with awe.

“Seriously?!” Dean cried, tracing his fingers lightly over the still sensitive area. To his surprise he only felt traces of raised skin where the gash was healed over. “This is some freaky shit, here, Sammy.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Sam grinned. “Something’s actually working for us instead of against us.”

“Yeah, well, say that again once we’re out of this hell hole,” Dean grumbled, eyeing a few of the other barrels and shelves for more of the red vials. “Lets take as many of these as we can and get out of here.”

Sam nodded and eagerly began to collect the as many of the colored bottles as he could find. When they were certain they’d taken all that was worth looting – which wasn’t much because the Imperials had already cleared most of the supplies out – they rejoined Ralof.

“Done? Let’s get moving,” the rebel said, looking amused.

They continued on out into another long tunnel corridor. The floor was beginning to slope downwards, bringing them even further underground. When they turned a corner, Ralof stopped short for a moment before growling angrily.

“Troll’s blood! It’s a torture room. Come on!” the man roared, barreling into the dungeon-like chamber.

There was already another Stormcloak rebel – the woman from the other prisoner cart – down there fighting two armed men and one with what looked like electrical sparks dancing around his fingers. Ralof wasted no time, arming himself with a bow that he must have picked up along the way, and shot down one of the soldiers point blank. Dean took a swing at the magic user, delivering a disarming stab to the guy’s middle, with the other Stormcloak rebel delivering the finishing blow. Sam and Ralof were just finishing up with the third man – one who looked as if he was in charge of this horror chamber – when Dean turned to aid them. Sam engaged the Imperial, locking their blades and provided Ralof with the opportunity to finish off their opponent.

“Was Jarl Ulfric with you?” Ralof asked their new female companion.

“No. I haven’t seen him since the dragon showed up,” she said grimly.

While Ralof and the woman talked, Dean took in the torture chamber, stomach roiling at the reeking smell of blood, urine, and rotting flesh. Sam looked equally sick as they spied the large patches of blood – both wet and dry – and the dead corpses in the cage-cells, nearly all of them dressed in Stormcloak garb.

“Wait a second,” Ralof called, directing their attention towards one of the cages. “Looks like there’s something in this cage. It’s locked. See if you can get it open with some picks. We might need that gold once we get out.”

Ralof held out a set of picks towards them. Dean and Sam shared another glance before Dean took the picks and got started on the lock. He was better than Sam at lock picking anyway. He opened it no problem, almost scoffing with how easy it was – even Sam could have done it. He tried to ignore the body, grabbing the handful of gold coins scattered on the floor, and another potion bottle – this one white.

“Wait,” Sam said, pushing past Dean to get at a book lying on the floor.

“This is not the time to read, Sam,” Dean huffed.

Sam shot him a glare as he opened the book, making a noise of surprise in the back of his throat.

“What?” Dean asked.

“I can read this,” Sam said, awed as he flipped through the pages of the book. “I think it’s a spell book. The Fireball spell…”

“Grab anything useful and let’s go,” Ralof said, making his way towards what looked to be another hallway.

“Come on,” Dean sighed, rolling his eyes when he saw Sam stash the text away in his tunic beneath the armor.

After searching the room over for anything useful they followed Ralof and the Stormcloak woman out of the torture chamber and down another long descending hallway. They passed through more empty torture and prison rooms, and went down more stairs. Dean felt the air grow colder the farther they went underground. Eventually the cobblestone flooring ended, replaced with packed down dirt, and the long hallways became winding stretches of cave wall. It wasn’t until they entered a natural chamber formed by an old underground river that they ran into more Imperials. It was kind of tricky having to fight them on the rickety wooden platforms and support bridges that stretched over the river instead of on firm ground, but with the four of them, it was pretty easy to dispatch the Imperials. It helped that Dean’s head no longer ached and that he wasn’t trying to think about the lives he was taking. All that mattered was survival that right now. Dean was quite content to face off against the Imperial Soldiers with Sam and the Stormcloak woman while Ralof picked off the enemy archers hanging back on the ledges on the other side of the river.

“Let’s go on ahead. See if the way is clear,” Ralof sighed once they were finished with this latest batch of enemies.

They exited the river chamber and came into a room that seemed to end.

“There has to be some way out,” Dean muttered, looking around.

“There is,” Sam agreed, pulling hard on a lever that dropped what Dean had thought was a boarded up wall, but was actually a drop-bridge.

“The hell is up with this world?” Dean muttered under this breath. “We in some real game of Dungeons and Dragons?”

“Who knows? Knowing our luck, that’s exactly where we’ve ended up,” Sam smirked at him, bumping their shoulders together.

“You’re kinda enjoying this trip a little too much, Sammy,” Dean scowled.

“At least it’s not boring,” Sam chuckled.

“Oh no, God forbid we find ourselves in the boring sort of trouble. We couldn’t end up in Pleasantville with McGuire and Witherspoon. No, we prefer Legend of Zelda,” Dean sassed, earning himself another one of Sam’s laughs.

“Let’s see where this goes,” Ralof said, leading them across the bridge, down another hall, and into a wide underground cavern. There was a shuddering groaning sound before the roof behind them collapsed.

“No going back that way, now,” Ralof huffed. “We’d better push on. The rest of them will have to find another way out.”

“Ya think?” Dean scowled. “I’m getting really sick of our exits getting sealed off. Damn dragon.”

Sam grunted in agreement.

The man-made structures ended here. There were stone steps that led down to the bedrock of the underground river that had formed the cave tunnels they were now transversing. Dean and Sam were constantly grabbing hold of each other’s arms to steady themselves as they slipped and slid on the loose pebbly ground before wading into the river – thankfully nothing more than a stream now – following it until Ralof took them down a dry tributary that led them into a chamber filled with gigantic spiders.

Dean heard Sam whimper miserably before hacking away at the first arachnid that dared approach them. Dean winced when he got hit with a shot of web, the sticky thread stinging his skin. Sam let out a loud yelp as he dodged a shot of the web projectiles, throwing his hand up in defense. Dean nearly stopped in distraction when flames came shooting out of his brother’s hand and hit the spider gunning for them. The mutant giant spider squealed, rearing up in agony before Dean stabbed it in it’s exposed belly, killing it.

He looked worriedly over at Sam who was staring at his hand as if it had bitten him before staring over wide-eyed at Dean, thrusting his hand out as if in warning. Another ball of flame shot out of Sam’s hand and flew over Dean’s shoulder. Dean startled when he heard another loud squeal behind him and hacked at the spider he hadn’t realized was about to attack him.

Once all the spiders were dead Dean rejoined Sam who wouldn’t stop looking at his hands.

“I don’t know how I did that, Dean,” Sam whispered. “I just…did. And it’s so easy. I just have to think of fire and…”

Both of Sam’s hands became coated with bursts of flames roiling gently over his skin. With a small shake, they were gone and Sam’s hands were cool as if they hadn’t been on fire at all.

“I hate those damn things. Too many eyes, you know?” Ralof grunted as he started to head out of the chamber. It was then that Dean noticed that the woman Stormcloak rebel wasn’t with them anymore. She must have fallen behind at the last ceiling collapse. Ralof didn’t act surprised about Sam’s fire powers. Then again, Dean had seen one of the Imperial soldiers fighting the dragon outside using a similar kind of fire magic. Maybe this was a common spell or something to know in this world and Sam just tapped into it instinctively.

“Dean…” Sam said, voice wavering fearfully.

“Come on, Ron Weasley,” Dean huffed. “We’ll worry about it later.”

Sam pursed his lips, but nodded, following Dean as they hurried to catch up with their companion.

They made their way down, somehow making it back to the river-stream, which they continued the follow for some time. Dean really hoped that they were getting close to an exit. The damp air of these caves and caverns made him feel like he was being stifled. The next chamber they entered had some streams of sunlight coming from outside, though, so he remained hopeful. Just as they were about to move on, Ralof suddenly stopped.

“Hold up,” the man whispered. “There’s a bear just ahead. See her? I’d rather not tangle with her right now.” Dean didn’t blame him. That thing resting at the far end of the chamber under a beam of sunlight from the ceiling was huge! “Let’s try to sneak by. Just take it nice and slow, and watch where you step. Take it slow and careful, and I think we can sneak by her. Go ahead. I’ll follow your lead and watch your back.”

Dean and Sam shared an incredulous glance before crouching down and quietly made their way around the bear, as far away from it as they could get. There were a few close calls when the rock beneath their footing slid and almost woke the beast, but after a long heart-stopping trek, they managed to reach the other end of the chamber. The further they went this time down and through the twists in the cave, the lighter it became and Dean nearly rejoiced when he saw the light up ahead.

“That looks like the way out! I knew we’d make it!” Ralof cheered.

Sam let out a relieved breath and Dean grinned at him as they exited the cave and he took his first gulp of fresh air in what felt like forever. He was blinded by the bright daylight for a moment – the glare from the snow on the ground not helping one bit – but when he could see again, the view nearly took his breath away. They were high up on a mountain and more mountains stretched out ahead of them, the low valleys in-between misted over, and lush green trees were everywhere.

“Wow,” Sam whispered from beside him as they walked further out from the caves.

“Wait!” Ralof cried, yanking them back and behind an outcropping of rocks.

With a roar, the dragon from before flew overhead. They waited a couple of minutes to make sure that the beast was gone before leaving their huddled place behind the rocks by the cave entrance.

“There he goes,” Ralof muttered, getting up first. “Looks like he’s gone for good this time. No way to know if anyone else made it out alive. But this place is going to be swarming with Imperials soon enough. We’d better clear out of here. My sister, Gerdur, runs the mill in Riverwood, just up the road. I’m sure she’d help you out. It’s probably best if we split up. Good luck. I wouldn’t have made it without your help today. You know, you should go to Windhelm and join the fight to free Skyrim. You’ve seen the true face of the Empire here today. If anyone will know what the coming of the dragon means, it’s Ulfric.”

Sam and Dean looked at each other, surprised by Ralof’s abrupt farewell, but shrugged it off and started heading down the path the rebel had pointed out. Dean wasn’t sure about joining some rebel cause, but reaching that Riverwood village sounded good to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's chapter 2. Not sure how long it'll be before I post chapter 3, but I am open to any and all suggestions on where I should take this fic (especially if you have a recommended Let's Play Skyrim that I should consider following). I will be following the main storyline for the most part but if you have any side quests or certain character interactions you would like to see occur/expanded upon, please let me know. Thanks for reading and look forward to the next chapter!


	3. The Road to Riverwood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cow it's been a year since I updated this! Sorry! I am happy to see that there was some interest in this story and thanks to all of you lovely commenters, here is a new chapter! I hope you enjoy it and please leave another comment or leave kudos if you like this story and wish to see more!

**POV – Sam**

“He’s still doing it, isn’t he?” Dean sighed, looking grumpy as they continued down the mountain path from Helgen to Riverwood.

Sam bit back a smile. “Yup.”

“Dude can’t make up his mind apparently.”

“He can probably see how lost we are and is keeping in sight so that we know which way to go to get to Riverwood,” Sam said reasonably.

Even though he had said that they should split up, Ralof the Stormcloak rebel hadn’t gone on that far ahead of them down the path. In fact, the guy kept stopping and looking back at them as if making sure that they were still behind him.

Dean scowled before letting out a sigh. “C’mon, Sammy. We might as well catch up with him. Perhaps he can tell us more about this crazy messed up world we’re now in.”

Sam nodded, lengthening his stride accordingly with his brother’s as they moved to catch up with Ralof. The rebel saw their change in pace and stopped, waiting for them on the path.

“Mind if we tag along?” Dean asked sarcastically.

Sam wanted to jab his elbow into Dean’s side, but Ralof didn’t appear to take any offense. It was entirely possible that sarcasm was lost on the man. Still, Dean didn’t need to be rude and alienate their only “friend” in this world so far.

“Not at all,” Ralof smiled. “We appear to be heading in the same direction anyway and you looked lost. Are you new to this region?”

“You could say that,” Sam said. “We’re not from here.”

“From this area in particular or Skyrim in general?” Ralof asked, curious.

“The later,” Dean grunted. “We’re as lost as you can get.”

“Then by all means,” Ralof smiled, “I would be happy to have your company. As I said earlier, my sister, Gerdur, should be able to offer you some help. We can help you regain your bearings from there.”

“Thank you,” Sam said, bowing his head gratefully. Dean merely nodded.

“We’d better get going then,” Ralof said, looking to the sky, “if we want to make it there by nightfall.”

“Lead the way,” Dean said, waving a hand forward.

The three of them made their way down the mountain path in silence for a time before Sam’s curiosity got the better of him.

“Ralof, why were you being executed?”

Ralof glanced up at him, his eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Seriously, you don’t know? That was Ulfric Stormcloak himself.”

“Oh, right. Ulfric Stormcloak…” Sam nodded, but cast a confused look over at his brother. Dean mimed being gagged and Sam shot him a deadpan expression. He knew that the gagged man from their cart when they’d awoken in this world had been called Ulfric Stormcloak, but he didn’t know what that meant. It wasn’t like he knew who the man was.

“Right,” Ralof said, not seeing the silent exchange between the brothers, but appeared to realize that, as outsiders, Sam and Dean must not know who Ulfric was. “The leader of our fight against the Empire. I forget that most people don’t know what he looks like, except for those Imperial wanted posters.”

“Right,” Sam said, nodding to show that he was following Ralof so far, but honestly the information wasn’t anything new to them, so Sam rephrased his question. “How did you end up as Imperial prisoners?”

“I was assigned to Ulfric’s guard,” Ralof said, his posture straightening with pride. “We were on our way to Darkwater Crossing, in the south of Eastmarch. The Imperials were waiting for us. As pretty an ambush as I ever saw. We were outnumbered five to one, at least. Ulfric ordered us to stop fighting. Didn’t want us all to die for nothing, I guess. I thought they were taking us south to Cyrodiil. Parade us in front of the Emperor. But then we stopped in Helgen and you know the rest.”

Sam nodded again. Ulfric sounded like a good leader even if by surrendering all of his men would have died anyway at the execution if the dragon hadn’t shown up. Speaking of the dragon…

“Was the dragon on your side?” Sam found himself asking. He regretted it instantly. Dean was staring at him as if he’d sprouted a third eye in the middle of his forehead. “It’s a perfectly legit question,” he hissed defensively. “People have summoned worse creatures to take out their enemies.”

Before Dean could respond, Ralof let out a loud laugh.

“What? Oh, hardly! I don’t think even Ulfric could pull a dragon out of his pocket.” Sam ignored Dean’s I-told-you-so glance. “Lucky for us it attacked when it did, eh? I wasn’t looking forward to getting a shave from the Imperial headsman.”

At least the rebel wasn’t making fun of him.

“Really, dude?” Dean asked. “Did that dragon look like the kind of creature that could be controlled? Couldn’t you feel the powerful mojo emanating off that thing when we were standing under its wing?”

“Shut up, Jerk,” Sam scowled. “Didn’t it hurt your brain to use a word as big as ‘emanate?’”

“Oh bite me, Bitch,” Dean scoffed before turning his attention back to Ralof who was watching their exchange with amused interest. “So, you really think we should join up with Ulfric Stormcloak?”

“Damn right,” Ralof nodded. “You don’t have to be a Nord to fight for Skyrim’s freedom. You should come to Windhelm with me and join the fight to free Skyrim. You’ve seen the true face of the Empire here today. If anyone will know what the coming of the dragon means, it’s Ulfric.”

“You think Ulfric knows where that dragon came from?” Sam asked.

“Well… maybe not,” Ralof admitted. “Dragons haven’t been seen in Skyrim for an age or more. But wherever that dragon came from, and whatever it wants, Ulfric will get to the bottom of it. You can count on that. Besides, you have your own score to settle with the Empire now. And with that dragon.”

Sam and Dean shared a look. Whatever was going on, maybe their arrival in this world had something to do with the appearance of that dragon. Their coming had certainly coincided with it at any rate.

“We’ll have to think about it,” Dean said at last.

“Yeah, sure, I understand,” Ralof nodded. “No need to decide now. But I know that after you think about what you saw today, you’ll realize that Skyrim deserves to be free.”

Sam and Dean nodded neutrally. Sam wasn’t sure about joining any rebellion, but he figured that as a pretty high ranking guy, Jarl Ulfric should more than likely have access to books and information that could help him and Dean find a way back home.

The three of them continued to travel down the road some more in silence for about another hour, until their dirt mountain path intersected with a cobbled road much like the one that had taken them to Helgen. In fact, if the signpost next to this new road was any indication to Sam, it could very well be the same path. Two of the three signs on the post pointed back up the mountain towards Helgen and some place called Falkreath, and the other pointed down the mountain to Riverwood.

“At least we know we’re heading in the right direction,” Sam said, pointing the sign out to Dean.

“Fantastic,” Dean muttered, appraising the continuing downward slope of the road as they continued on.

“See that ruin up there?” Ralof suddenly asked after the path came out of a particularly thick cluster of trees along the road, revealing that they were now beside a cliff and a winding river below. But Ralof wasn’t indicating the river. Instead, he was pointing up at the mountains on the other side where a large looming series of ruined black structures could clearly be seen in the late afternoon sun. It seemed to take up half of the mountainside. “Bleak Falls Barrow. I never understood how my sister could stand living in the shadow of that place. I guess you get used to it.”

Sam eyed the ruins curiously, but noticed Dean frowning up at them.

“They certainly look creepy,” Dean muttered before continuing down the path, which now started to wind steeply down the mountain for a while.

At the end of one of the last bends down the cliffside on a jutting outcrop of rock, were three large stone markers of some kind positioned in a semicircle. Sam approached them with great interest when he noticed the carvings on them.

“These are the Guardian Stones,” Ralof informed him, “three of the thirteen ancient standing stones that dot Skyrim’s landscape. Go ahead, see for yourself.”

Sam ignored Dean as he rolled his eyes when he moved to do just that. He examined the first stone on his left and examined its etchings. He wasn’t sure how, but he understood the writing on the stone like he’d understood the writing in that magic book he’d looked at back in the dungeons in Helgen.

“Thief Stone?” Sam mused, looking at the etching of a cloaked man holding daggers. “This stone blesses thieves to help them with their stealth.”

Dean laughed. “Seriously? They have guardians for thieves?”

“I guess so,” Sam mused, moving on to the next stone. “This one is the Mage Stone and blesses its users to help them with their magic.” Sam couldn’t help himself and stood closer to the stone to get a better look at the etching of a man in flowing robes wielding a staff.

While Sam was looking at the Mage Stone, Dean looked at the last stone, the Warrior Stone, that had an etching of a large muscular man wielding a shield and battle-axe. He too could read the glyphs on the stone for some reason that he wasn’t willing to contemplate at the moment. According to the glyphs, the Warrior Stone blessed warriors and aided them with their fighting ability.

At the same time, Sam and Dean brushed their hands over the ruins on the stones and they suddenly started to glow upon contact.

“Mage and Warrior. Good! Those stars will guide you two to honor and glory,” Ralof told them.

Sam and Dean stood back from the two stones and stared in startled amazement as the glowing inner light in the rock revealed constellation outlines beneath the etchings of the mage and warrior drawings on the stones. Then two bright beams of light shot up into the sky from the stones.

“That normal?” Dean muttered when the glowing faded and the bright beams of light vanished.

“Well Ralof isn’t freaking out, so I guess so,” Sam said nervously.

“Whatever. Lets get out of here,” Dean sighed. “The sun’s setting now and it’s going to be dark within an hour.”

“You are right,” Ralof nodded. “But don’t worry. We are nearly there.”

“Woo hoo,” Dean said dourly. “Come on, Sam. Someone more than likely saw the light show and I don’t fancy being arrested by those soldier dudes again.”

“Indeed not,” Ralof said grimly. “This isn’t Stormcloak territory. If we’re ahead of the news from Helgen we should be fine as long as we don’t do anything stupid. If we run into any imperials, just let me do the talking, all right?”

They picked up the pace after that. Thankfully the road was no longer winding down the mountainside and was now level and gradually progressing relatively down hill and straight alongside the river. They thought that they were making some really good progress when they suddenly heard the howl of wolves from relatively nearby at around sundown.

“Perfect,” Dean growled as he unsheathed the sword he’d gotten off the female captain back in Helgen. Ralof pulled out an axe and a mace. Sam moved to pull out the sword he’d picked up from an Imperial soldier as well, but hesitated. That was when the wolves came upon them. There were only three, but these wolves were bigger than any Sam had seen. They were Black Dog big. Dean and Ralof were dealing with the first two wolves, but the third one was smart and seemed to have noticed that Sam had yet to draw a weapon. It charged with a snarling growl and lunged for him. Sam quickly dodged to the side and instinctively threw his hands up, red flames shooting out of his hands again like it did back with the spiders in the cave. The wolf yipped and yowled in pain, thrashing about with its fur on fire before it finally succumbed and died under the torrent of flames that Sam kept pushing on it.

“Anybody want a hot dog?” he asked shakily after closing his fists and ending the fire spell.

“Dude,” Dean huffed, wrinkling his nose at the smell of brunt fur and flesh. “I almost feel sorry for it. It’s burnt to a crisp.”

“Dead is dead, my friend, and we are alive. That is all that matters,” Ralof sighed; pulling his axe out of the wolf he’d just killed. “But a wolf burnt that badly has no salvageable pelt or meat.”

“Pelt? Meat?” Sam repeated, feeling a little ill. “You want to skin these things?”

“Fur pelts can be tanned and made into shoes, clothes, armor and weapon materials,” Ralof shrugged, pulling out a dagger. “And the meat is food. Both are tradable for good coin, which you’ll need more of to get by in this land.”

“Fair enough,” Dean sighed, pulling out his own knife – curiously not the dagger he got off “Captain Bitch” – and helped Ralof skin the two remaining bloodied wolf carcasses. “Can we get a little light here, Sammy?”

Sam looked down at his hands for a moment, willing them to catch on fire on purpose this time, rather then as a reaction to getting attacked. With just the thought of fire he was able to light his hands aflame again and held them above Dean and Ralof so that they could see what they were doing in the rapidly darkening evening.

Once they’d skinned the wolves and collected some of the meat from the carcasses, night had fallen and they moved on.

“I’m glad you decided to come with me. We’re almost to Riverwood,” Ralof reassured them when they saw that the trees began to thin up ahead. There was a full moon out and the stars were bright and numerous in the sky so Sam ended the fire spell on his hands, feeling a bit exhausted as he did so.

“Good,” Sam grunted.

“You alright?” Dean asked worriedly.

“Just tired,” Sam said, smiling wearily. “I think constantly using that fire spell wore me out.”

Thankfully they ran into no further trouble the rest of their way to Riverwood. Riverwood was a village by the river with a tall wall of rock encircling it on the mountain side.

“Looks like nobody knows what’s happened yet. Come on. Gerdur’s probably working in her lumber mill,” Ralof said as he entered through the gate and took an immediate left along the wall and towards the mill over the river that Dean and Sam had seen from further back down the path.

“A dragon! I saw a dragon!” they heard an old woman proclaime from the main street. Sam and Dean stopped just inside the village gate and looked at her. She was looking up at the sky, pointing over the roofs of the buildings on the opposite side of the street at the mountains. She was speaking to a young man in a nice looking yellow jerkin, tan slacks and well polished leather boots as he was approaching the porch she was standing on. His clothes were nothing expensive, but were of a finer quality compared to the rags that Sam and Dean had been wearing when they’d awoken in Skyrim.

“What? What is it now, mother?” the man asked.

“It was as big as the mountain, and black as night. It flew right over the barrow just as the sun was setting,” his mother informed him.

“Dragons, now, is it? Please, mother. If you keep on like this everyone in town will think you’re crazy,” the man said, climbing the steps quickly and steered her by her elbow to the door of the house.

Sam and Dean traded a concerned look. The dragon might still be lurking in the area it seemed if it had only made its way over this village as the sun was setting.

“C’mon, Sammy,” Dean said softly. “We’d best not lose Ralof.”

Sam nodded and they hurried down to the mill along the path that their rebel companion had taken. There were fewer lit torches in this area, so it was harder to see things down this way in comparison to the main street. In the mill there was a large muscular man working in a rough jerkin as he moved large trunks of felled trees with only his bare hands. Ralof wasn’t there however, so they ducked out and rounded the back of the building where they were now able to hear voices speaking.

“Gerdur!” they heard Ralof say.

“Brother! But is it safe for you to be here?” a woman’s voice answered.

Sam rolled his eyes when he saw Dean perk up a little. His brother was such a womanizer.

“Gerdur…” Ralof sighed.

“We heard that Ulfric had been captured.”

“Gerdur, I’m fine. At least now I am.”

It was at that moment that Sam and Dean made their way into view of the pair. Gerdur was a woman around Dean’s age with long blond hair pulled back away from her pretty heartshpaed face. She wore a dusty green dress over a white bodice and petticoat. She eyed the Winchester brothers nervously for a moment, noting the Imperial armor that Sam was wearing.

“It’s alright, Gerdur. They were with me in Helgen. I may not have made it out of there if it weren’t for them,” Ralof informed her. “They are a bit lost, however, and could use some of your help.”

“New to Skyrim?” Gerdur asked.

“Yes,” Sam cut in before his brother could start flirting. “Do you have any supplies we could take?”

“Of course. It is the least I can do if what Ralof said is true. Here’s a key to the house,” Gerdur said, handing Sam a key. “Stay as long as you like. If there’s anything else you need, just let me know. But what’s this all about? What are you three doing here?”

“A dragon attacked Helgen and destroyed it,” Dean reported. “The three of us escaped together.

“A dragon? In Helgen?” Gerdur said in wide-eyed amazement. “It can’t be… although… it would explain what I saw earlier… flying down the valley from the south… I thought I must have just been seeing things…”

“That dragon flew off this way. You must have seen it,” Sam said, thinking of the old woman whose son had hurried her inside when she’d started talking about the dragon.

“You’re right, I saw it. But… how’s that possible?” Gerdur asked. “Dragons don’t exist… they’re just stories from long ago… I don’t know why… but I actually believe you. You’ve got the look of someone who’s just seen a dragon. Things just go from bad to worse. First the war, now dragons… what’s this world coming to? The Jarl needs to know if there’s a dragon on the loose. Riverwood is defenseless. We need to get word to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun to send whatever troops he can. If you’ll do that for me, I’ll be in your debt.”

“Of course,” Dean said. “We could do that.”

Sam shot him a look, but Dean only had eyes for the pretty woman who was smiling greatfully at him.

“Is there somewhere we can talk?” Ralof asked. “There’s no telling when the news from Helgen will reach the Imperials.”

“You’re right. Follow me,” Gerdur nodded before turning her head towards the mill. “Hod! Come here a minute. I need your help with something.”

“What is it woman? Is Sven drunk on the job again?” a booming voice asked.

“Hod, just come here.”

A minute later the large hulk of a man from inside the mill appeared atop the stairs entering the mill on the back side. He started in surprise when he saw the Stormcloak rebel.

“Ralof!” he cried. “What are you doing here? Ah! I’ll be right down.”

As Hod disappeared from sight, a small boy came running over to them with a dog at his heels.

“Uncle Ralof! Did you really see a dragon? Can I see your axe? How many Imperials have you killed? Do you really know Ulfric Stormcloak?”

“Hush, Frodnar,” Gerdur said, hurrying over to intercept the boy. “This is no time for your games. Go and watch the south road. Come find us if you see any Imperial soldiers coming.”

“Aww, Mama,” the boy whined. “I want to stay and talk with Uncle Ralof!”

Sam had to smother a laugh when he saw Dean’s smile drop a few degrees. It appeared Gerdur was a mother and not only that, he was pretty sure that Hod was her husband. Dean must have come to the same conclusion too because he didn’t even try to flirt with the woman after that.

Gerdur led them to her house, cooked the wolf meat for a late dinner, and Hod helped them settle and bed down for the night. Before going to sleep, Sam and Dean had talked with Ralof and Hod about what they should do and where they should go next. In the end, it had been decided that because Whiterun was a big city, it couldn’t hurt to head that way. Such a well populated city should have a city or archives of some kind that could help them discover more about the world they were in and hopefully a way back home to their world. It didn’t hurt that in going there, it allowed them to fulfill their promise to Gerdur to warn the city’s Jarl about the dragon.

The next morning the brothers were treated to a home cooked meal and given supplies for their journey to Whiterun.

“I told you my sister would help us out,” Ralof said, grinning at them as they stood just inside the door before the brothers left. “I hope to see you in Windhelm. Good luck.”

“Thank you,” Sam said. “How do we get to Whiterun from here?”

“Just head north – you can’t miss it. It’s the capital of Whiterun Hold,” Ralof told them. “Before you leave Riverwood, you might want to visit the trader down the street and trade those wolf pelts for some coin. I know Gerdur gave you some, but in the city, things can get expensive.”

“Sounds good,” Dean nodded.

“Thank her and Hod for us?” Sam requested as they began to head out the door.

“Of course. Safe travels, my friends. I hope you find what you’re looking for,” Ralof told them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's chapter 3. Nothing too exciting I know, but I hope for more action next chapter because obviously (if you've played the game) Sam and Dean are going to get caught up in and embark on the Golden Claw quest! I'm looking forward to writing that, but it might not happen for a while yet. I still have a lot of fan fics to update before then, but I promise that I will return and continue writing this, especially if more interest grows. :)


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